by D N Meinster
"We're not killers," Rikki said, and the light on her channeling crystal evaporated.
Doren and Aros followed her lead, and they put their weapons away.
"You used Hatswick's blood?" Rikki inquired. "Hatswick's a sin mage."
Hatswick's blood had been tainted by Neanthal. With that bit of information, all that followed his use of it made sense. "Then the MR was a misnomer. It was never Magenine's Retribution. It was Neanthal's."
The trio helped Versil back on his feet, and he stared directly at Rikki. "Please send my apologies to the Goddess."
"That's not how it works," Rikki replied.
"Though this guy would have a better chance of doing that," Doren said, pointing at Aros.
"Hey, I haven't heard from Her in a while," Aros responded.
"Magenine spoke to you?" Versil asked, but he never got a clear answer about that.
"Now that you know what you're dealing with, think you can make a cure?" Rikki asked.
"Maybe, but I'd still like your help," Versil said. For all he knew about magic, he probably would never know as much as a mage.
"Oh yeah," Aros said as he wiggled the Keys on his waist. "Do you have it?"
Rikki turned away from her friends. "No. Hatswick got it."
"That's okay," Doren said as he put an arm around her. "It's still two Keys to one."
Chapter Thirty-Three
Spycraft
2 D.R.
Hatswick stared at his cloak in the mirror. He'd grown fond of the intense yellow that made the striped outfit stand out. But the vivid colors would do no good where he was going. To blend in, it would have to change.
The tip of his staff touched the bottom of his cloak, and he carefully dragged it upwards. As it climbed toward his chest, it absorbed the yellow fabric and transformed it to black. When it reached his neck, he looked to be wearing a simple black robe. Hatswick growled at the bland attire his reflection was donning, and with a light tap, speckled some gold trim amidst the darkness. He'd at least be able to tolerate that.
"You're oddly concerned with your appearance," Amelia stated as she shifted into a nearby corner, "given that you're going to be invisible for your trip."
Hatswick didn't even glance at Amelia. "He's going to win, you know. He already has."
"If you have misgivings about going back, I can send someone else," Amelia replied.
Misgivings? Hatswick wanted to let loose on the Grand Mage. She'd failed their king. So had he. They'd all failed him. What was the point now of going back? They deserved this exile. Each day, they'd have to wake up and remember why they were here instead of across the sea. It was a fitting aftermath to all that had been.
"I know how you feel," Amelia said as if she had insight into his soul. "But as long as the Tunsev line survives and I live, this war is not over."
"Go yourself then," Hatswick replied, finally facing her. "Take on Neanthal one-on-one."
"I would, but he's done everything he can to avoid such a challenge." Amelia closed the gap between them. "We will all be going back someday. But for now, we just need a few to tell us what's become of our home." She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need you."
Hatswick glared at her hand before backing away so he was out of reach. He knew he couldn't face Neanthal. He couldn't even take on Cillian and Spira. The woman before him could, yet she refused. "Every day I go there trying to learn some insignificant shred of information is another day that a false monarch is on the throne. All the mages on this island can shift there. He won't be able to beat all of us!"
"You didn't speak up at our meeting," Amelia calmly responded.
"They don't want to go back!" Hatswick was shouting, though he wasn't sure why. "They're fine lying on these beaches while everything Aergo built dies! They'll delay and delay until there's no course but to remain here, forever!"
"Oh, Hatty." She patted his heavily stubbled cheek before gazing into his eyes. "They're all afraid, just like you. You don't have to go."
Hatswick pushed her arm away. "I'm not afraid! I just...want him back." With a flick of his staff, a line of gold swirled around his trilby hat. He began to fade away before the tears fell from his eyes.
"Be careful," Amelia called out as he shifted from the room.
The warmth of the Twilight Islands was washed away as the dark alleys of Grimemound took their place. Much had likely changed in his absence, but the stench of the sewers was as vile as ever. Hatswick gagged and curdled his lips as the foulest of smells swam up his nose. He tried not to focus on it as he touched his staff to his forehead. Globs of silver liquid enmeshed his skin until he was completely covered in a reflective fluid. Within seconds, the invisibility took hold, leaving no trace of him or the illusive liquid that aided him.
He'd meant to mask himself before departing, but Amelia's distraction had gotten the better of him. His sense of logic had been overcome by the desire to leave. Why did she insist on prodding his emotions when this mission required a temperate resolution? She must've gotten some sick pleasure from it.
Amelia sent him here while she got to stay on the Islands. Amelia let King Aergo die while she went on living. Amelia kept her plans secret while sending him out to gather information. Amelia, Amelia, Amelia.
He should be the Grand Mage, not her. He cared more about the King than she did. She seemed to be getting on quite fine in Aergo's absence, yet no one else was. Only her.
Maybe it was more than coincidence that she hadn't been there when Aergo died. Maybe that was part of her plan as well.
Hatswick shook the thoughts from his head. He couldn't let these ideas consume him while he was in enemy territory. But when he got back, he'd watch for signs that she was betraying them.
Hatswick abandoned the alleyway and emerged into the sunlit streets. The pervading emptiness struck him, and he hurried to another area, certain it was the locale that the locals were avoiding. But every adjacent blocked lacked the signs and sounds of life that had prevailed in Kytheras during Aergo's reign. What had happened to this city? Had Neanthal killed them all? Or had they locked themselves away inside their homes?
He dared not call out as he aimlessly roamed, seeking an answer. Revealing himself would be antithetical to his purpose back on the mainland. He was there to learn, not interfere.
Many of the storefronts he passed were closed, their windows either broken or covered by boards of wood. He peeked inside the ones that allowed, but they all appeared the same, with empty shelves and plain walls where once there were items and foodstuffs for purchase.
Most of the homes had their curtains drawn. He could shift inside, but thought better of it. One wrong step and he might give himself away.
The first indication of life was hanging from the roof of a once well-trafficked bar at the end of Bread Peddler's district. Ironically, it was a body, tossing about on its rope with every breeze, that alerted him that not everyone in Kytheras was dead. Its clothes had been torn away, and its face was practically burned off. But there was a message carved into the naked torso. "Submit."
It was not merely an ultimatum but an order. Those that refused would end up like this poor soul. And given how few bodies decorated the area, it seemed most had obeyed.
Hatswick shifted away, fading into a district that had always been teeming with life. The Sea Wailers district was comprised of the busy docks that jutted out into the Unending Seas. Fisherman, traders, and the like were always working amidst the nearby waves. But he saw only vacant ports once he arrived, along with forsaken ships that bobbed up and down with the waters. The center of Kytheras' booming economy was no more.
Hatswick's hand tightened on his staff as he appreciated the extent of Neanthal's rule. All of Aergo's decades of work had been undone in a matter of seasons. Every debate and every decree had been overturned and undermined. A legacy meant to last forever was being torn apart while the last men loyal to the old king hid away on the Twilight Islands.
Hatswick turned
toward the black structure that blotted out a segment of the cloudless sky. Castle Tornis had been home to a variety of kings over the centuries. But never had its appearance seemed so foreboding. A beast had taken residence on the throne within, and it had to be dealt with.
The harbor faded away along with the sound of creaking ships and gentle waves, replaced instead by the towering turrets of Hatswick's former residence. In the footprint of Castle Tornis did he finally find the last vestiges of life in Kytheras. Treatis Square was filled, not with the stalls and plays of yesteryear, but with row-upon-row of up and coming soldiers. All decked in black armor stamped with Neanthal's brand, they mimicked their commanders as they were trained in sword fighting. They stretched their blades forward, to the side, and then waved them back and forth. One did not do as well as was instructed, and a pack of demibeasts was sent to drag him away and turn him into a snack. Another dropped his sword and was subsequently freed of his limb by one of the plated monstrosities.
Neanthal was turning the men of Kytheras into soldiers. But to what end? Did he plan to invade the Twilight Islands?
Hatswick watched as they quivered and shook, imitating their trainer and knowing that one wrong move could end their lives. This couldn't simply be about going after the Kytherans in exile. There would be no need to insist on perfection when they had a numbers advantage. This was about something else. But what?
He left the square and headed to the front entrance of the castle. It was strange being somewhere so familiar yet having no idea what awaited him.
While he lingered there, hoping someone opened the door and enabled him to slip in, a demibeast started sniffing the area. Could it smell him?
Instead of waiting to find out, Hatswick lifted up his staff and bashed the skull of the shadowy creature. While it fell on its side, someone stepped out of the castle.
"Who's there?" the new arrival demanded.
Hatswick recognized the voice of this man. The traitor lived, continuing to serve his new master. Trusting him was one of Aergo's greatest mistakes. But this gave Hatswick an opportunity to set things right.
He became visible once more as he prepared to confront the former guardian. "Uterak."
"Hatswick," Uterak responded, cracking his knuckles. "Did you come back to die?"
"Do you remember your last assignment?"
"Holding a grudge, are you?" Uterak grabbed the hilt of the blade on his belt.
"It was in Faunli, wasn't it?" Hatswick gradually nudged his staff to the side.
Uterak didn't reply. He glared at Hatswick before swiftly withdrawing his sword. But he didn't even get in into a proper position before Hatswick's staff slammed into his side and sent him soaring into the air, far above the castle and arching in the general direction of Faunli.
Hatswick took satisfaction in watching Uterak tumble to an imminent death. He was but a dot in the sky, but knowing what was coming to him kept the grin on his face.
"You!"
Hatswick spun and saw a trio of plated approaching him. "I guess I'm finished with the spycraft today." A bolt of lightning shot from his staff and consumed the plated. They crumbled to bits a second after impact.
The door to the castle opened again, and Hatswick plunged the staff into the guard's chest and pushed them both inside. When the door closed, the guard burst into flames and fled away down the corridor as he and his armor melted away.
The air inside the castle smelled the same. It was damp, welcoming, with a hint of musk that flashed Hatswick back to more pleasant times. But he couldn't stay within his memories. Not with a pack of demibeasts coming for him.
Hatswick jabbed his staff forward and the stone floor rolled itself up like it was a rug, trapping the beasts within.
A hearty clap echoed in the entrance hall.
Hatswick knew who it was before he even turned to look at him.
"Your magic is impressive," Neanthal said. "But Magenine holds you back. I can remove her shackles so you can be more than second best."
Hatswick froze, indecision about what course to take delaying any action. He could fight the false king and avenge Aergo's death. Or he could flee and alert Amelia and King Shine to what had become of their homeland. Both were reasonable options yet neither seemed to entice him.
"You should consider it," Neanthal went on. "I know what you long for."
"No," Hatswick said. "You killed what I longed for." A fireball escaped his staff and hit Neanthal, but he was unfazed by the attack.
"Deny me, now, Hatswick, but you'll come around." Neanthal smiled at him before making to leave.
"Don't turn your back on me!" Hatswick charged the new King, but he froze when he was half-way to him.
"Do not mistake my actions for mercy," Neanthal stated. "It is merely patience."
Hatswick began to fade away, the halls of the castle replaced with the open air and beaches of his new home. Neanthal had sent him here. He could shift away others by his own will. Maybe he truly was a demigod.
Hatswick bent his neck toward the sky and screamed.
"The Bellish are slaves," Azzer relayed to the High Council. They had gathered once again in the Tunsev's manor to report on what they'd learned. "They are treated well, but they have no will of their own."
"What are they working towards?" King Shine asked.
"A weapon. But I cannot tell you what it is or how it works."
Hatswick had his elbow propped up on the table, his head resting on his palm. He knew why this High Council meeting was taking place, but he had no desire to be there. And they were going to call on him and ask him to explain what he'd seen. No one at the table would be able to accept what he'd like to tell them. So he'd have to omit the most important detail. The reason he hadn't spent more time in Kytheras.
Amelia already knew. She'd asked him to keep it to himself. What was the Grand Mage getting at? She might be the only one able to take Neanthal on, but she stayed here amongst the gentry. Could she see something he didn't? Could Neanthal? Is that why he'd let him live?
"Hatswick?" King Shine addressed him.
"Huh?" Hatswick asked, lifting his head off his hand.
"What did you find in Kytheras?"
"Nothing," Hatswick replied.
"Nothing?" Rant asked.
"Most of the city has been emptied," Hatswick explained. "Stores are closed. Streets are vacant. Not a sign of life anywhere but around Castle Tornis."
"Curious," Queen Narai murmured.
"Perhaps they're hiding," Prince Slythe suggested.
"Or dead," Rant added.
"The only living Kytherans I saw are part of Neanthal's army now," Hatswick went on. "They were conscripted. And their training is merciless."
"Weapons. An army. They must be planning an invasion." King Shine focused on Amelia. "How do we stop them?"
"They are not coming here," Amelia stated with certainty.
"What?"
"Neanthal does not have his sights on the Twilight Islands," she continued. "We are insignificant to him." She looked to Hatswick. "Most of us, anyway."
Hatswick's slight beard could hardly mask his scowl. She knew, as he did, that Neanthal wanted something from him.
"Then what does he want?" Queen Eloris spoke up for the first time in the meeting. "He has won. Aergo is dead. We are isolated. What could he be working towards?"
"I have some ideas," Amelia said coyly.
"We'd like to hear them," Queen Narai replied.
The entire group went silent, their eyes glued on the Grand Mage. Hatswick, too, wondered what Amelia had made of Neanthal's machinations.
Amelia stood up, and at first, it seemed like she might shift away to keep her revelations to herself. But she stayed there, staff in hand, surveying the room. "Neanthal means to attack the Goddess. In the Great Bastion."
The two Twileans let loose a chuckle, but the rest of their company was quiet.
Hatswick was the first one to speak. "How? You can't get there without dying."
>
"We can't," Amelia iterated. "Neanthal is from there. I believe it's possible he could go back."
"And bring a Kytheran army along?" Shine asked.
"Yes," Amelia said.
"And what happens if he wins?" Narai inquired.
"It's not the end of the world," Amelia answered. "It's the end of all things."
"Can he be stopped?" Eloris asked.
"We'll have to keep him here," Hatswick spoke up. "In Ghumai. We have to make him focus on us first."
Amelia gazed kindly at Hatswick. "You are right, my friend. We must sabotage his efforts best as we can, starting in Belliore. Can you manage that, Azzer?"
"We know mages can go there and get back," Shine interrupted. "What about the rest of us? We can't just watch."
"We will all be going back to Ghumai," Amelia assured the council. "But it will take time."
"They will grow old and lazy for each day we wait," Rant said.
"No," Shine said. "We will not be relaxing on the beaches any longer. There will be a mandatory conscription here just like there is over there. We're going to war."
"To save a goddess that might not even exist?" Dashel addressed them. "You will not enlist Twileans against their will."
"Is he the King of all of Ghumai or isn't he?" Narai dared them to answer negatively.
"Well..." Dashel didn't complete his thought.
"Neanthal is," his bald companion spoke.
Rant stood and withdrew his sword. "Say that again."
The atmosphere went tense as everyone waited to see how the events would proceed. Shine seemed content to let the fight unfold, but Amelia decided to intervene.
"King Shine is the rightful ruler," she said. "If you do not accept that, you may leave."
Both Twileans stayed put.
"Then I assume I will have your cooperation," Shine stated.
Each member of the High Council appeared to rise at once, eager to rush out of the room before any violence started.
Amelia sidled up to Hatswick. "You don't have to go back."
